The dawn had just broken on the horizon, casting a golden light over the buildings and the paths that bordered the park. The waves of the sea lapped slowly and rhythmically against the shore, like a deep breath blending with the fresh morning air. Shirei sat on the roof of his house, his gaze lost in the panorama as it gradually lightened. Soon, he would have to head back inside—after all, the warmth on his skin didn't exactly thrill him.
Time had felt warped ever since he arrived. Among everything that had happened—the incident with Tefine's son, Aena, the ambush in the Underworld—there was also what had occurred in the cafeteria.
Shirei closed his eyes and tried to distance himself from those events. He couldn't deny that he and Ien's daughter were growing closer, but he feared the bond would benefit neither of them.
He had a clear task: to train and become stronger. Marina was a hindrance to his goal—and a rather significant distraction.
The solitary Blendbreed, however, did not regret spending time with her.
He preferred her company to the usual solitude he had grown used to, though he still didn't understand why.
Enough… I need to focus on other problems.
Every time he entered the Underworld, it felt as though something called to him—but he had no control over it. The last time, when he'd nearly lost his life during the sudden fight, he had understood just how real the risk was.
I can't afford to be weak anymore. Or to have unstable power.
Cragar had made that very clear.
"There will be moments when your power will be necessary, and you'll have to be ready."
Those words echoed in his mind. Despite his apparent disinterest and his dark-lord demeanor, Cragar had spoken them without a hint of doubt, as if he already knew Shirei would find the way. That was the past—but in the silent present of the morning, with the cold wind brushing his face, the Blendbreed was certain he didn't yet have the answers he needed.
He rose with a deep breath. It was time to get to work.
He tucked the letter from Lyceum D'Agostini into his pocket—the one stating he was to attend Marina's lesson on Friday. Once again, they'd be together, but he'd think about that in a couple of days. Until Friday, there would be no distractions, no trainers or peers watching his progress.
It was just him and himself.
Shirei returned to the isolated area—the small clearing beyond the edge of the field—where he had trained before, away from the other Blendbreeds. The space was perfect: secluded, undisturbed, a place where he could push his body to its limits without fear of interruption or judgment.
Besides, it doesn't violate the rules written in Lodal's contract. I'm exactly outside their jurisdiction.
He took a moment to observe the place, his mind already focused on the task ahead. He needed to sustain the spectral form of his new technique for longer, to control the flow between the physical world and the Interworld, and do it without losing his own shape. The night before, in the cafeteria, he had only hinted at the potential of his new power—but it had been enough to understand he still had a long way to go before mastering it.
"I have to increase the duration," he whispered to himself, almost like a prayer. No one was there to hear him, but perhaps hearing his own voice would help bring order to his thoughts.
The first attempt wasn't difficult. Shirei had already figured out how to shift from a physical to a spectral state.
The world around him began to fade.
His body became less solid, like a flame wavering in the wind. A cold sensation enveloped him, as if every fiber of his being was pierced by an unnatural frost. He could feel the ground beneath him, yet it seemed distant, unreachable.
He focused on the rhythm of his body and let himself slip into the Interworld, until a second heartbeat overwrote the natural order and rendered him ethereal through a wave of pale mana.
The sensation is right, he thought, trying to maintain his focus.
His physical body began to lose cohesion, forcing him to cancel the technique and try again.
If the mechanism is based on my heartbeat, I have to try to slow it down.
He concentrated and reactivated the technique, trying to remain ethereal as long as possible. But after a few seconds, the cold became unbearable. It was like a sharp wind trying to shatter his spirit.
The shift came suddenly. Shirei felt a sharp pain in his chest—a brutal pull that tore him from his spectral form, yanking him back into solidity. He collapsed to the ground, muscles tense, his hands digging into the dirt. His heart pounded fiercely, and sweat streamed down his back.
He lay there, gasping, for several minutes, trying to recover from the strain. He realized that keeping the spectral form active for longer was far too exhausting. There was a kind of limit—imposed by his own mortal body.
Every time he tried to push beyond the threshold, something pulled him back—perhaps his "humanity." His powers were a double-edged sword: mesmerizing and terrifying at once, but without control, they were useless.
The son of Cragar remained there for a while, watching the horizon, his mind drifting through recent memories. He thought of Marina and Dahlia. Both had been kind to him, and in some way, he felt they were trying to understand him. Maybe he should talk to them.
Maybe Marina, with her intelligence, could help him find the balance he was missing.
Or maybe not. Maybe this was a path he had to face alone.
Eventually, he stood again, brushing off the thoughts along with the dirt. The day wasn't over yet—and there was still much to be done. He began preparations for the next attempt.
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
After several hours, something within him clicked.
Shirei was finally beginning to feel the first signs of progress. It wasn't immediate, and it wasn't perfect, but with each passage between the Otherworld and the Interworld, the cold that wrapped around him seemed more bearable, and the exhaustion began to lessen.
Still, the sense of oppression never truly left him. This technique had to become a reflexive resource—a shield he could summon by instinct—so he needed to master it completely.
In the distance, clouds began to gather, dark and threatening, mirroring his state of mind. It was a day of relative calm, but Shirei knew the moment had come to push further. He had to test his new control and see whether he could use it in combat. He needed a real challenge—and he knew exactly what he had to summon.
The Tenebraes.
The spectral harpies, now habitual residents of the Interworld, were perfect for what he had in mind: swift, feral, and numerous—they were the ideal training.
Shirei extended his right hand toward the void. His breathing slowed, and his heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm. The cold began to seep into his skin as the veil between worlds grew thinner. He felt the energy coursing through him, channeling toward the shimmering ring on the index finger of his right hand.
Beneath the sound of wind whistling through the trees, another noise took form. It was shrill, sharp—like a sinister caw that pierced the silence. From the lengthening darkness, a larger shadow began to emerge. Then another. And another.
The ethereal forms of the harpies slowly appeared before him, hovering above the ground in wait. Their wings opened and closed with twitchy, erratic motions, while their hollow eyes stared at the violet-eyed boy.
He had summoned five.
The son of Cragar smirked faintly and slid his feet across the grass, lowering his center of gravity.
"Attack me," he ordered.
The harpies didn't wait for further instruction. The first launched toward him with astonishing speed, its wings slicing through the air like knives. Shirei barely managed to dodge, twisting sideways and rolling across the ground as the creature missed him by inches, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake.
The second harpy was no slower. It dove at him from above, claws extended forward. This time, Shirei was ready. Using his new control over Spectral Travel, he froze in place and partially vanished, allowing the talons to pass through him harmlessly, as though he were made of smoke.
He had done it, he realized as he sprang to his feet—but there was no time to savor the success. The other three harpies were already airborne, poised to strike.
Shirei decided to respond. With a swift motion, he called forth the Blade of Discord from the Interworld and, tensing his muscles, hurled it toward the creature. The blade flew through the air like a dark lightning bolt, striking the harpy with precision. The Tenebrae let out a distorted screech, but did not vanish. Still, the attack had been strong enough to disintegrate its left wing and send it crashing to the ground.
That brief moment of reprieve was enough. Shirei focused once more, and with a single thought, reignited the power that had been smoldering within him. He had to maintain his concentration—any slip would mean being overwhelmed.
The second harpy lunged again with a shrill screech, but Shirei was ready. Instead of dodging, he planted his feet firmly in the ground and allowed the creature to pass through him harmlessly. As it soared past, the Blendbreed deactivated the technique and struck it across the back with a horizontal blow. The creature twisted, screaming in pain, as a dark flare coursed through it—then vanished entirely.
A sharp pain dropped the boy to one knee, a clear sign that the Tenebrae had been defeated. Caught up in the fight, Shirei had forgotten a crucial detail: the dark creatures were tied to his divine core. If a Tenebrae was destroyed, its particle would recoil, and the monster would be lost forever.
He quickly approached the fading darkness and instinctively raised his right hand, hoping to heal the harpy somehow—but failed miserably.
With this, I only have nine Tenebrae left. I'm an idiot. I'm not supposed to kill them. This is training—they're not meant to suffer. And I can't afford to lose their strength.
He apologized to the fallen Tenebrae and dismissed the Blade of Discord with embarrassment. He shouldn't have gone that far with his subordinates.
He turned to the remaining dark creatures and said, "Let's start over."
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
The harpies were swift and ruthless, but Shirei was beginning to predict their movements. Each missed strike, each dodge, added to his confidence. He felt his mastery over the advanced Spectral Travel becoming smoother, more instinctive.
Another harpy attacked, but the Blendbreed chose not to evade it. He rushed toward the creature, then stopped at the last second while activating his new technique. As it passed cleanly through him, the other winged beasts hesitated, as if thrown off balance. Their connection to Shirei was undeniable—they were his creations, and now they could feel their master beginning to assert control.
The first harpy, the largest of them, dove from above, her talons gleaming like sharpened metal. She seemed agitated by the fact that Cragar's son kept dodging her.
He wouldn't have time to block another strike. With a sudden burst of movement, Shirei stepped back, trying to dodge the outstretched claws—but the creature was too close. The tension disrupted his flash-travel, and Shirei felt a dark scratch graze his skin, leaving a wound on his arm.
The second harpy lunged at him in one final, desperate attempt to overpower him, but the boy wasn't going to repeat the same mistake. He spun, activated his technique, let the harpy pass through him, and with a restrained strike, brought down a hammer-like punch on its head.
I went too far again, he scolded himself. Better stop now.
When everything calmed down, Shirei stood still at the center of the clearing. His breathing was labored, but a faint smile of satisfaction curled on his lips. The harpies had vanished, dissolved—but the trial had been passed. He had summoned, fought, and dominated the creatures. And most importantly, he had proven to himself that he could do it, that he could become stronger and evolve Spectral Traveleven further.
The shadows around him slowly receded, as if sucked away by an invisible force within the Interworld. He felt the pain of the attack on his arm—a shallow wound that reminded him how thin the line was between success and failure.
He looked up at the sky, where the clouds were already starting to clear. A hint of bitterness surfaced on his face. He had to return to the Thirteenth House.
"It's already evening," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment and letting the feeling of triumph wash over him. It had been a fruitful training session, but if he truly wished to master his new Spectral Travel, he would have to repeat that routine tomorrow, the next day, and many more to come.
The road was endlessly long.
── ⋆⋅❂⋅⋆ ──
While Shirei trained in the forest, at the Thirteenth House, Dahlia was alone in the Garden of Kore, intent on repeating the gestures she had secretly observed. She had kept away from the others for days, determined to master Spectral Travel without anyone's help. Yet every attempt ended in failure—either she couldn't move through the Interworld, or she was immediately repelled by it.
She had managed it once, when her brother was in danger, but that same event had never repeated itself since then. Sweat dripped down her forehead and she hated it. Her hands trembled as she tried one more time to focus. She took a deep breath, summoning all the mana she could gather. This time, she felt something different—a cold shiver running through her body. For a moment, the place disappeared and she found herself surrounded by a sea of ghostly shadows.
She had succeeded, but the triumph lasted only an instant. When she reappeared, something went wrong. Instead of emerging with grace and control, she materialized off-balance and stumbled onto the carpet of colorful flowers. Her foot got caught, and she fell forward, landing face-first with an embarrassing thud. She stayed there for a moment, face smashed against the ground, cursing inwardly.
"Perfect," she muttered sarcastically as she tried to stand, rubbing her sore nose.
She didn't feel like seeing anyone already, and that training was only ruining her mood further.
She got to her feet and sighed—then she felt something strange.
Something trembled beneath her.
The girl looked down and saw a crack beginning to open in the ground.
"Father?" she whispered, surprised, before smiling sadly. "Maybe it's true. I think I do need your help."